


Collision

by orphan_account



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Partial Mind Break, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 08:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16552667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When all you have left in life is a handful of bastards, sometimes it's easier to give in then to ignore the inevitable.





	Collision

“Come on, Commander!” Finch smirked, slapping his ass again, the sound harsh and the contact jolting. As if he needed such a feeling at that point. “Are you running out of stamina already?”

Mocking little shit. But Roche didn’t respond, his jaw tight as he felt the sweat on the small of his back starting to creep down, slickening his skin. It wasn’t because he didn’t have an answer; No, far from it. He could actually conjure up some sort of biting retort if he wanted. Only, when one had two cocks up his arse, both which were relentlessly pounding into him, words seemed secondary at that point.

Actually, he doubted he could even come up with a string of sentences that would make sense. He was already nearing an edge, one that made his eyes roll back slightly and his chest rise and fall, as he felt Silas angle himself from behind, thrusting in harder, his grip on his thigh harsh and bruising. He wasn’t unravelling just because two of his soldiers were ploughing him at the same time - though, that was a large part of it. No, even he was nearing a limit for the second time that night, his body still exhausted from the first climax he accidentally gave in to, there was still a lingering sharpness that came from it. A guilt hidden in his chest. He wasn’t _satisfied_. He needed just a little bit more - something thicker or harder - to send him where his body was craving. That high of ecstasy where he could forget he was in the shithole that was Flotsam surrounded by idiots, whores, and thieves.

And remind him of what he had lost.

As if reading his mind, Silas leaned forward and nipped his right ear, sending a violent shudder through his already shaking nerves, before the bastard bit down on his lobe, tugging harshly, not responding to the high whine he made. Fucking prick knew that was a weak spot, and he tried to shift away, but Finch interjected, helping Silas keep him close, their smirks pissing him off when he caught sight of them. Bloody whoresons would get it later, but he couldn’t fight the feeling, and his anger dissipated, turning into whimpers and stutters as his legs spread wider, his own hips beginning to thrust sloppily and erratically against the two. They responded by bucking into him at the same time, stretching his already loose hole, and he couldn’t hide the choking moan that came out.

“I think he likes it,” Finch said. Fucking prick.

“I think so too,” Silas teased, his tongue delving too far into his ear, forcing him to almost snarl. Gods, he was going to break their spines after. Maybe before if they didn’t just let him fucking come. “You enjoying yourself, Commander?”

He opened his mouth to speak - no, snap at them - when Finch’s blasted fingers grabbed his left nipple and _pulled_. The pain was sharp, stabbing through his thoughts, the sensation forcing a harsh bark to erupt from his drying throat, when the feeling was replaced by a hot, wet sensation. Finch’s mouth had switched with his fingers and he purposely sucked, treating him like he was some wet nurse. Oh, he was going to kill them both. Not just for turning him into this, but for making him _like_ it.

It got even worse when Silas reached between his legs, gripping his cock with a lazy hold, his hand moving in a dull and indifferent motion. It was meant to tease him into breaking, to force him into snapping or begging or whatever. The fact that it was working only frustrated him more and he clenched around his soldiers, trying hard not to let his moans sound so needy. He didn’t want them to know they were winning. That they were tearing him from his usual state of apathy and anger to one of neediness for their hands.

At that moment, he suddenly felt claustrophobic and agoraphobic all at once. The air was stifling, his soldier’s bodies too close, yet at the same time they were too far away. He wanted to be trapped in the feeling of being used, the satisfaction he wanted looming ahead of him just out of reach. It was mocking his situation, tantalizing him, and he couldn’t help but almost thrash, his hands grabbing to whatever he could find, nails digging into firm flesh.

“Commander-”

He panted like a dog, the sound nearly foreign to his ears, as if he was running a marathon yet losing, and he felt himself slipping. Turning him into something he didn’t want to admit - a title he actively lashed out at being called. Only the need he had inside him to come was overriding everything else. Sapping his mind of dignity and honor. Making him squirm at the desire to have something let loose inside. He let his head bow forward, colliding with Finch’s neck, and he sought the crook of his body, breathing into it as his knuckles turned white from where he gripped, his cock pulsing as he bucked. 

“Commander, you alright?” Silas asked, his voice tinted with some form of concern, but he didn’t respond, still focused on trying to get off, his breaths becoming laboured, the sweat on his brow dripping down the side of his cheek. He needed it, he fucking needed it, and he began fighting for the taste of release, his throat becoming unhinged as he began shamefully pleading for it, his breath inhaling sharply when he clenched his teeth.

Let him come. _Let him come._

“Commander,” Finch purred against his ear, and he didn’t try to hide the shudder. The hot, screaming lust inside of him for the two bastards fucking his backside. He concentrated on the end of the tunnel, listening to every sound, pant, thrust, and whimper, all which seemed to escape from his mouth. The sensation of being stretched was driving him mad. The taste of sweat, saliva, and semen in his mouth making him hunger. He dragged his nails down, biting into Finch’s neck, gripping firmly like a mutt, and his soldier only grunted.

He felt his ass get slapped, his cock released as his legs were spread wide by Silas, and he let them use him, both of them soon thrusting in tandem, wrecking his insides. Yet, he wanted it. No, he needed it, and he let his body become trapped between his anxious, rough soldiers, their own dirt-smeared and sweated skin rubbing against his own.

Without meaning to, his mind dropped, his thoughts no longer focused on the present, but of the past. Of his former King. It beckoned him to become unhinged, tantalizing his nerves with former memories and fantasies. Of his body pressed against a stifling bed, the smell of hard sex in a trapped room; being dominated when he was acting belligerent. He was riding him - back in Vizima - and he let out a hard, pained groan, not stopping at the thought. 

Foltest. Foltest, Foltest, Foltest, _Foltest_. He wanted his _King_.

It was at his high that one of them - he didn’t know who - reached down and gripped his cock, squeezing with an intensity that made him break. His mind collapsed, the wave of ecstasy rushing through his veins and he shouted as he came, releasing in shaking spurts as his entire body twisted at the sensation, unable to stop, the flooding warmth blessing him with the sweet relief of euphoria. It was a twisted peak that dragged cries from him he never could make, sent flashes in his eyes, and comfort he couldn't comprehend.

It had been too long since he felt anything but guilt. Of shame for his bloody _failure_.

His frantic hands found the sheets under Finch to rip at as he lost his mind for a moment, his teeth sinking into skin and he whined a low, pained groan. His spent cock began to pulse painfully against the hand still gripping it, the action causing him to clench around the cocks still up his rear and the groan against his neck left him slightly satisfied he caused a reaction. Immediately, one of them began to thrust in at a harsh angle, forcing his high to keep going, and he arched in response, nearly cracking Finch’s skull as he did.

“Ow, shit!”

“Here, let me,” he heard them yap, and he couldn’t help the strangled cry that came out as he was pulled up, Silas’ hand gripping his neck, forcing him to remain upright as both his soldiers now fought for their own release. It choked out whatever ecstasy he had felt, the last of the pleasant sensation that had felt like a golden stream draining from his body, and his eyes slowly slid back down from where they had rolled up into his skull, forcing him to grit his teeth as he felt them bucking frantically into his slackening body; Wanting to taste what he had just felt. 

It left him trembling, his thighs still twitching from his release, his damn sack beginning to ache, when the second rush hit him. A thankful, warm sensation that flooded his bones and soothed his scattered mind. It felt so damn good, and he only panted at the ceiling, his eyes rolling back once again as he felt fingers dig into his skin and teeth scrape against his shoulder as two of his Blue Stripes fucked his slick hole. They _dominated_ him as if he was a common whore.

Not surprisingly, they didn’t last long either.

Finch came first between them, pouring a steady, thick stream into his body and he moaned at the clear feeling in his insides of being filled, the hot fluid coating him thoroughly. Silas was still thrusting, forcing Finch’s come to spill out from the force, and when his breath hitched, Roche only closed his eyes. His fingers shook as he reached up to grip his Silas’ wrist as his hand was still hooked on his throat, and he remained silent as his lowly soldier choked on his own pleasure of release, his breath hot against his neck. The feeling of sticky come once again flooded his body and he grit his teeth as Silas thrust up, making sure every last fucking drop was put into him.

The aftermath was coated in silence, save for the laboured breaths between them, and Roche finally opened his eyes, his body still twitching, uncomfortable now with the two cocks lodged in his ass and the fact that he had been so open. He let himself become vulnerable because he was a fucking wreck. He shifted, grunting, trying to tell them to get off him without saying it, and Finch gave him a confused look. Idiots.

“G-Get off me,” he growled, and it took a moment for them to remember he was their fucking Commander and he just gave them a fucking order. Silas pulled out first - too fast - and he yelped as it made him spill out the come still sitting inside him, the feeling horrible, like he was a dam that had just been broken open. Finch popped out next, not helping, and he spat at the feeling of being so open, his hand immediately reaching between himself to cover his hole. Fucking idiots! He swore sometimes they did that shit on purpose.

“You alright, Commander?” Silas asked, trying to be nice, but he didn’t reply, his tense mood coming back as he slowly came down from his former feeling of ecstasy. He felt like a whore that had just spent a night in an army camp, yet it didn’t bother him as much as he wanted. Well, as much as it obviously should. Probably why he was getting pissed. He glared at Finch, the twit figuring out he needed to get off his bed right then and there, and he watched as his soldier slid out from under him, staggering to grab his uniform and britches. He responded by laying down where he had been, gritting his teeth at how open he still was.

Not to mention his inner thighs were slick with drying come. He hastily tried to wipe it off, only making more of a mess, and he was left with a souring feeling growing in his mouth. Why the fuck did he do this to himself?

“U-Uh, Commander,” Finch said from beside the bed, watching him in concern. Bloody hell, he was asking to get thrashed. “Thirteen and Fen are still outside waiting. They-”

“Give me a minute,” he snapped, forcing them to be silent, and they quickly tugged on their clothes, casting a few glances at him which he refused to acknowledge. He merely rubbed his ass, sighing internally at the thought of how he wasn’t going to be able to sit the next day, when there was a knock on the door.

“Commander?” he heard Thirteen say, clearly wanting in. It made him press his lips thin, but he swallowed his annoyance, moving to sit up.

“Commander?” Finch echoed. He stared at the wall. 

“Send them in,” he finally said. 

After all, they were all he had left.


End file.
